The End
by Rosebud5
Summary: "The Apocalypse came silently, in the night." The year is 2067. France has been destroyed, and a vicious leader has taken control. Les Amis have deaths to avenge. Revolutions to plan. A world to save. When the end comes so silently, the beginning must come loudly, with gunfire and shouts of hope. Will the shouts be silenced? Or will this darkest night end, and the sun finally rise?
1. How the World Ended

Hello, everybody! Okay, so this story has been a long time in the planning, has gone through many revisions in its early stages, and only just now do I feel confident enough to start writing it! I'm not sure how long or short it will be, and in fact if it doesn't seem to get much interest, it might be a one chapter thing only. But I can tell you it will be unlike anything I have ever written. It's set in 2067, and France has undergone the Apocalypse. The rest you will find out through the story. I hope you all enjoy this fanfic, and come along for the ride that I don't even have a 100% plan for yet. Thank you for your bravery and support for embarking on this journey with me!

**If you follow me on Tumblr, you'll know I posted some outfits I made specifically for Post Apocalyptic Amis a few days ago. I tried to link them on this page, but the site wouldn't let me do so. So! If you all are interested, I'm thinking I might make a whole tiny little side blog that just goes along with this fan fiction. It will include images that inspire me for this story, music that inspires me, my head canons for what the characters look like, and any authors notes that I don't have time to post here. If you're interested in that, PLEASE let me know in the reviews! **

Alright! Well without any further ado, come with me to 2067 France. Grab your weapons and helmets. This is going to be a hard ride.

Disclaimer: I only own the story and any OC's that I make up. "Les Miserables" and it's characters belong to Victor Hugo.

~Rosey

* * *

**THE END.**

**Chapter One: HOW THE WORLD ENDED**

_The __Apocalypse came quietly, in the night._

Nobody expected the end of the world to come as it did. Because it didn't really end. It just… Fell apart. Like a knot that was tied into a perfect bow and then was tugged apart with one yank. Everybody went to bed in a peaceful and beautiful France, full of lights and soft music and the hum of cars and people talking.

They woke up to the Apocalypse.

Buildings fallen to ruin in seeming silence. Roads upturned. The sky turned a light brown by all the dirt and rubble and destruction. Random citizens executed and tossed into the streets.

Later that morning, the Announcement was made. Latour, in his dark black coat and goatee and icy blue eyes, appeared on every television screen across France. Every radio station played his words. Every program was stopped and his voice was broadcasted across the country in its stoic coldness.

"_Citizens of France, we are in a very difficult time. Your leader, Jacques __Sebastian, has been killed in this destruction. I will be taking over his place. I will be rebuilding France. I will be your leader, and you will do as I say. There is a 10 P.M. curfew. Anybody who does not obey will be arrested on sight. All schooling will be carefully monitored, to ensure that all our citizens are being taught what they should be to rebuild our nation. Everyone will work in a factory assigned to you to rebuild this city. Everyone will be given a number, and they will learn to answer to it. Nobody will…"_

And so it went on.

It did not take a full day for the citizens to figure it out. It was Latour and his Guard that destroyed France. Though nobody knew how he did it, they knew he did. He destroyed it so that the citizens would be at his full mercy to rebuild it.

He made special broadcasts for international reports, making it seem as if France had not changed at all. He projected images of a normal France above the dirty sky, too high for the citizens to see, but low enough that passing airplanes would see what they always had passing over the city. Tourists were told that France was undergoing great technological change, and would not be taking outside guests for a while to make sure everything was safe for visitors _but oh, when it's open again the changes will be magnificent._ To the world, France was thriving normally and even better than before.

In reality, it was dying.

This all began five years ago.

* * *

Citizen #79183, Julien Enjolras, turned his head to cough into the sleeve of his jacket, dirt from the debris surrounding him billowing up as he walked, going into his nose and lungs. His messy blond curls fell into his darkly circled eyes, his other-wordly beautiful face covered in a thin layer of grime, as were his clothes and boots. He reached a hand into his satchel, feeling a little anxiously for his hand gun, relaxing again when he felt the cool metal against his hot skin. _Good. Good. Safe. _

He continued to make his way along the beaten, crumbling path, glancing instinctually over his shoulder every five steps or so. When a gust of wind blew harshly and cold over the landscape, causing a loose piece of debris to fall to the ground, Enjolras spun around on his heel, his hand going to the gun again, his heart racing wildly and his eyes wide and alert. He stood there, statue-still, for a good seven minutes before he felt it safe to start moving again, looking out through the gloom for the Door. For that ever-so-faint line of light that, unless you were looking for it, you would miss. Thankfully.

In the darkness, Enjolras became more and more aware of the rapid breaths escaping his lips. Of the constant anxiety in his chest that he had grown accustomed to. He wished he had walked to the meeting tonight with Combeferre, but the medical student had been forced to work later than usual at the Factory, and so Julien was on his own. Julien hated being on his own. Especially now.

When the thin slip of light finally made itself seen before Enjolras, he took a deep, relieved breath and hurried towards it, keeping his head tucked low, the red hood of his jacket pulled up over his head and casting a shadow across his eyes. He turned over the board, slipped inside the small tunnel, pushed his way through an almost too-small door...

And stepped into the Cafe Musain.

When the Apocalypse came, the Musain had been buried under a pile of rubble, caving in part of the roof, but otherwise not damaging the small cafe that had been thriving with activity five years ago. Somehow, the cafe had survived, and now Les Amis met there nearly daily, just as they used to. The only difference? Going there used to be a social event, full of laughter and hope. Now, it was secretive, dangerous, and nobody dare speak above a whisper.

Tonight, the entirety of Les Amis were at the meeting. Except for one. Courfeyrac, Joly, Jehan, Bossuet, Feuilly, and Bahorel sat at a far table, talking in low whispers about the Event. Grantaire sat in a corner, sipping from a bottle as per usual, making Enjolras's stomach twist with disgust. Combeferre seemed to have managed to get off early to get to the Musain before Julien, and he sat at a table near the door, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Eponine, Musichetta, and Cosette sat at the third and final table, and Eponine and Musichetta were busy helping Cosette keep her eyes dry and her chin high. Because that's why they were meeting tonight. Cosette's fiancé, and the group's dear friend, Marius Pontmercy was dead.

The death had happened two days ago, when Enjolras and Marius had been walking back from the Factory. One of the Guard members had decided the duo looked like a good target, and Enjolras had been knocked unconscious, and Marius, killed. When Enjolras awoke, a knot on his head and blood in his mouth, he turned to see where Marius was.

When he saw Marius was dead, and all that red, that red that was darker than his hoodie, that red that was everywhere, he lost consciousness for another ten minutes. He would never admit it. Not even to Combeferre.

The meeting was to be an unofficial funeral for Marius Pontmercy. Since his body was taken away by the government, they would never get to officially say good-bye. So this was the best they had.

I cannot nor should I try to put into words the feeling in the air through the meeting, or the eulogies that were spoken, or the tears that Cosette (and several of the Amis) could not keep back. It would not do Marius justice. It would not do the Amis and their deep love for each other justice. It would not do any of this justice, so I will try and just put it into one word.

_Grief. _

Grief so thick and heavy it weighed on all the Amis like a bullet proof blanket. If only there was such a thing as a grief-proof blanket. There is not.

* * *

"Marius's death will not go unanswered," Enjolras whispered under his breath to Combeferre as the two hurried back towards their flat, trying to make it home before the curfew. Puffs of cloud escaped Enjolras's lips as he spoke, signaling how cold it had gotten. "We will avenge him. We will avenge all the deaths from these past five years. The revolution will come."

"Julien, keep your voice down," Combeferre hissed warningly. "Do you want to be shot? Or worse… Taken?"

Enjolras said nothing, shoving his hands into his pockets, knowing his friend was right, but not wanting to admit it. Etienne put a gentle hand on Enjolras's back as they walked, keeping a sharp eye out for any suspicious movements.

Enjolras also had his eyes peeled. And since the attack he was more… On edge.

It was when a stray dog, emancipated and weak, crept behind a wall and made a flash of movement, that Enjolras broke. He let out a shout and yanked out the gun from his bag, aiming it in the direction of the moving shadow, shaking and eyes wide. Combeferre quickly pulled the gun from his friend's hand, hiding it under his coat, taking Enjolras's face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together, desperate to stop the panic attack gripping his younger friend. "Julien! Julien, it's okay! We're safe, it was just a dog! We're safe. Breathe. Breathe."

The Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder had taken a harsh grip on the young blond since Marius's death, but Julien managed to keep it under control almost every moment of the day. Only when he was with his dearest friend, when his walls were down anyway, did the panic grip him. And now was no exception. He trembled in Combeferre's grip, gasping for breath, eyes wide and terrified. Combeferre continued to whisper gentle reassurances to his friend until Enjolras's breathing finally evened out, and even then the older boy kept his forehead pressed to that of Julien's. "You're okay. It's okay. We're okay. We're safe."

Combeferre was lying.

They were never safe.

**To be continued. **

* * *

Alright. So. I am feeling quite drained and also quite excited. I have no idea where this story will go really, and that makes it all the more exciting. I have many plot points planned out, but they have to have things happen in between them, now don't they?

So, please, please, please let me know if you want me to continue this, what you thought of the opening, and what all you would like to see in the story. I'm sorry to all Marius fans out there… Sad isn't it? The usual survivor is the first to go. But he had to for the story to go where I want it to.

Please, please review! It would mean the world to me. And honestly, if I don't get enough feed back, I might not update this one for a while because of all the other works I have going. Let me know what you all want! And do you want that Tumblr page?

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	2. Smoky Skies and Confidences

Hello, my beautiful readers! I apologize for the time it took me to update this one. I've been in summer classes, and working every day, not to mention getting ready to go to DISNEY WORLD! Ahh!

Anyway, here's chapter two. Two quick announcements. Look up there at the cover picture. You see that perfect thing? That was drawn for me by the lovely and talented Wingedthing1026 on deviantART. And it's beautiful and perfect and I adore her. Go shower her in love and chocolate and fluffy socks. My second announcement is the Tumblr page I was going to make for this story is still a work in progress in my head. I hope to have it uploaded by the time I post my next chapter in here, but I can make no promises, sadly, with all the hustle and bustle in my life! But I will do my level best.

So now, without any further ado, enjoy chapter two of "The End."

~Rosey

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: SMOKY SKIES AND CONFIDENCES **

Cosette sat curled up with her knees to her chest on the roof of her dilapidated flat that was once beautiful and shared with her father, but was now broken down and in danger of collapse and lonely with Cosette as the soul resident. Her father, Jean Valjean, Citizen #24601, had vanished four months ago. She liked to pretend he was still alive out there.

Since the flat was so torn apart, it was doubtless highly unsafe for her to sit on the roof, but that was where she sat anyway. There was a place where the two peaks of the roof formed a little hiding spot, where if any Guards passed under the house they would not and could not see her. Of course sometimes they patrolled the sky, but that's what the hood of her massive coat was for. It kept her well hidden.

It was up here on the roof that Cosette could see the stars. Of course there weren't many, not with the smoke and clouds constantly filling the sky, but there were enough to give her the briefest moments of comfort. Especially now that Marius was gone. The stars kind of looked like his freckles did. Like his freckles _had. _

Tonight, Cosette was not alone on the roof. Courfeyrac sat next to her, in the same position Cosette was sat in. He was leaning his head against the side of one of the peaks, the cold wind ruffling his curls. As much as Cosette loved Marius as a fiancee, Courfeyrac loved him as a friend. Cosette could see in his eyes that he was hurting just as much as she was. And so she had asked him if he wanted to see the stars. You couldn't see them on the ground, and at the thought of seeing stars for the first time in five years, Courfeyrac's eyes had gotten a spark of that light in them that used to never leave. It flickered now.

"I haven't seen stars in so long, Cosette," Courfeyrac's quiet voice woke the young woman from her thoughts, causing her to look over at him. "When I was a kid, Bahorel told me that stars were the souls of people we have lost. I was trying to figure out which one was Marius. But... I'm starting to think he really is just... gone."

Cosette felt her eyes swell with tears, but she swallowed them back. No more crying for her today. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length chestnut hair behind her ear. Her hair used to be long and beautiful and perfectly curled. Indeed, she used to be stunningly gorgeous. She still was lovely, but she had cut off her hair and nobody wore make up any more. There wasn't time to style hair or worry about lipsticks. Cosette used to love fashion and beauty. Now, she loved staying alive. No time for such frivolities. No time for anything but keeping your head above water. So her lovely, curly locks were now short and flat. Her face was pale and her eyes darkly circled. Her bold womanly curves were still there, but she no longer worse skirts and blouses to accentuate them as she had when she was fifteen and realized "what if I was beautiful?" Now it was jeans and a plain blue shirt and that massive coat. Thinking of fashion made her sick now. Who was she to think of beauty when the world was dying?

Courfeyrac had not changed in looks at all, except for growing thinner and his hair getting longer. He still tried to keep his clothes nice. But it wasn't for vanity. It was to hold on to a shred of normalcy. His jeans weren't torn as the other Amis's were, and his green shirt was washed with a little bit of water and lye soap each night. His boots told a story, though. Worn and dirty, they showed that he was just as much of a victim of the Apocalypse as anyone else was.

Now, these two mourners looked back up at the stars and tried to imagine one of them being their Marius. But Cosette was starting to feel as Courfeyrac had said. Marius really was just... Gone. And no amount of childish pretending for him to be up there as a star would bring him back or bring them any comfort. Cosette reached for Courfeyrac's hand, pressing it gently, whispering, "He actually got the long end of the stick, you know. Getting out of here like that, for good. It's really selfish of us to want him back. To want him back in this world."

Courfeyrac turned to look at her and gave the smallest of nods, squeezing her hand back. "I know. But I can't help it. Besides Enjolras and Combeferre, he was my dearest friend. He was one more link to how France used to be, and now he's gone."

Cosette looked down at the tiny golden band around her wedding finger and took a deep breath, nodding weakly. She couldn't take it off. Not yet. "I understand."

The two fell silent again, hand in hand, watching the stars and silently knowing that none of them were whom they were looking for.

* * *

In another part of France, Enjolras sat on the tiny metal-frame couch in the flat he and Combeferre shared, scribbling furiously in his notebook. The notebook that, if ever found by a Guard, would kill him. The Revolution was coming, and he was ready and planning for it. He was leading it. He and his friends were saving France.

His hands still shook from the panic attack earlier, and occasionally the smallest of trembles would go through his body when he thought of Marius and the red, all that red...

But it was Marius that kept him writing tonight. It was Marius who kept him grounded tonight. It was all for Marius tonight. Marius Marius Marius.

Marius was _dead_.

_No I will not panic again,_ Enjolras cursed himself in his mind, tossing his notebook aside and gripping his head in his hands. _I will not. I will not panic again. _

And then Combeferre was there because Combeferre always knows, and he was holding Enjolras's hands and resting their foreheads together again. "Julien, it's okay. You're safe. Marius is in a better place. You couldn't have done anything. I love you. You're okay. Marius is in a safe place."

Enjolras focused very hard on breathing. He seemed to have to do that a lot recently. In and out. It was simple, and something he had been doing perfectly fine for twenty-two years now. It had just gotten much harder in the last five years.

Combeferre threaded his fingers through Enjolras's thick, golden hair, continuing to murmur reassurances. But he knew the words were empty. It wouldn't be safe until France was free. It wouldn't be okay until France was free. Marius wouldn't have died in vain when France was free.

Finally, Enjolras managed to get the panic under control and he pulled away, roughly running a hand through his hair. "Forgive me, Combeferre. I'm sorry. I'll be alright."

"Don't apologize, mon petit," Combeferre frowned deeply, kissing his friend on the forehead. "You can't help it. Anyone would react the same way you are if they were in your situation. Don't be sorry. It's all going to be alright." He reached for the notebook that was discarded earlier and flipped it open, looking through the new notes. "These are good, Julien. Very good. You will need to be careful taking this notebook with you tomorrow. This is condemning stuff."

"It's all condemning stuff," Enjolras looked up with fire in his eyes. "As it should be. We will not let this go unanswered. This dictatorship will fall and the people will rise and when they do, the world will know France has fallen. We will get help. The world will help us rebuild a beautiful and new France and the people will be the rulers, not a king or a dictator, but a people-elected representative and we will see that, Combeferre. I assure you. We will see that."

Combeferre nodded, eyes equally ablaze. "I know, Julien. And I cannot wait for that day."

* * *

And there's the end of chapter two! I just watched the new trailer for "Mockingjay," and it got me in such a Dystopian mood that this whole chapter flowed quite easily for me. I hope you all enjoyed it.

PLEASE review. Having your opinions is always helpful, but it's more helpful than ever with this story because I'm not 100% sure where it's going. So any feedback would absolutely make my day. Thank you all!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	3. In Another Part of France

Hey guys! So anyone who follows my other works will know that I have been trying to catch up on my fan fiction writing, and I am sorry for being gone so long. I also know I am VERY far behind on my reviews for some of my favorite authors, and for that I apologize. As soon as I get the time I'm going to read and review all your wonderful things, I promise. But for now, have this update of "The End!" I hope you all enjoy this, and please, please do let me know what you all think because I've been getting hardly any reviews and I just hope I'm not disappointing you all with my stories (not that I have anywhere to complain about not getting reviews when I haven't had time to read and review some stuff yet, but I am trying. I swear I am.)

**MOST IMPORTANTLY: I made the Tumblr page! Here you will find face claims, head canons, background info, etc. that will help you all along in reading this! Follow me for updates on the blog! Or, just check in every update on this story! I'll be posting the link at the start of every chapter from here on out. **

**Tumblr Page for "The End": _Rosebud5theend . tumblr . com_ (Copy and paste into search bar and take out extra spaces.)**

I love you all! Enjoy!

~Rosey

* * *

**Chapter Three: IN ANOTHER PART OF FRANCE**

_December 29, 2067_

_It got colder last night. Don't know how. But it did. I went to sleep thinking "It's never going to get colder than this" and I woke up and it was. I should learn not to jinx things like that. _

_There's still no sign of any kind of saving from this "end of the world." God, it feels so lame to even write that. But it is. It's the end of the world. Or the end of France anyway and that's all that matters because we can't get out. _

_We're raiding a shelter today. Getting food and weapons and anything we can. Nothing new. Can't say I'm excited about it, but hey. It keeps me alive. Staying alive is the game, and I've been playing it pretty well, I think. By that I mean I ain't dead. _

_I think the people that are dead are the lucky ones. _

_-Montparnasse._

* * *

"Hey, pretty boy, writing in that diary again, eh?" Babet plopped down beside the eighteen-year-old with a wicked smirk, his messy light brown hair spilling into his face.

Montparnasse glared up at him, arching a brow, black hair doing much the same to his eyes as Babet's did. "Not a diary. Journal."

Babet laughed, throwing his head back and kicking his boots up onto the table. "Sure, Parnasse. You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better."

The Patron Minette were gathering, as they did at least three times a week, in the old dilapidated inn that the Thernediers used to own before France died. Now, they still owned it in the sense that they lived there with the Patron Minette and the Thernedier's daughters Eponine and Azelma, but any time the Guards came by they would have to hide since, technically, Latour owned everything now. Even crappy old inns nobody remembered existed.

Babet was sharpening his knife on the heel of his boot that had grown so rough with wear it served essentially the same function as a whetstone. Montparnasse rolled his eyes a little at the obvious show the man was making of this simple act, pulling out his own knife and simply sliding it into the sheaf on his side. "You're not impressing anyone, you know," the younger boy arched a brow. "Certainly not impressing me, anyway. And I'm the only one around to see at the moment."

Babet shot a glare at Montparnasse, wielding his knife threateningly. "Don't give me that lip, boy. I can make that face of yours not so pretty anymore with one clean swipe."

Parnasse just glared back at him, clearly unfazed. "Hate to break it to you, Babe, but you aren't gonna do that. Not while we work for the Thernediers and you know as well as I do how much they need me to look _appealing_, hmm?"

"Don't call me Babe," the older man grumbled, falling back into his chair as he realized Montparnasse was right. "I hate that nickname."

The younger boy just shot him a wicked smirk and crossed his arms, sending the silent message _I __win_.

It was then Monsieur Thernedier entered the room, slimy as oily as the day France fell. He grinned darkly at the two men in the room, going over to join them. "Alright boys, the others are meeting us at the job. Parnasse, Monsieur LeFuax is paying for your... company this evening, so keep an eye on the clock because he is expecting you by seven."

"Understood," Montparnasse nodded a little, hating the cold hand that clutched his heart at the idea of this job. He'd been doing this for Thernedier for three years now since money got even more scarce. But he couldn't say he was proud of it or enjoyed the work. Indeed, every time the prospect of a 'job' arose he felt that bloody cold hand clenching his chest, and an icy sweat broke out on his palms.

Thernedier was already packing his little satchel with extra weapons and masks, shouldering the bag and heading to the door. "Right then, we're off. No mistakes, my dears. You know the consequences if you screw this up."

Montparnasse just glared at his back as they walked out. _I promise you, nothing you could do to me would screw me up more than that extra job you've given me. You can't hurt me anymore, old man. There's nothing left to hurt._

* * *

As it turned out, the break-in was done early, the residents of the shelter not even being home as the Patron Minette raided their supplies, shoving them all inside a massive bag and rushing out with shockingly little issues other than a Guard that passed dangerously close by but seemed not to notice the group in their camouflaged clothing.

And so it was Montparnasse found himself with an hour to spare before the job with Monsieur LeFuax, which he couldn't decide if he loved or hated. One more hour of dreading the job, and also one more hour to himself before he had to spend the night with that man. Ultimately, Montparnasse found himself sitting in one of the old rooms in the inn, drinking a can of Lord-knows-how-old beer and watching the minutes tick by on the old clock on the wall that had a giant chunk missing, making six and seven o'clock look like they didn't even exist.

Parnasse was broken from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and he glanced up to see Eponine striding in, going to plop down beside him on the bed, her too-big jacket swallowing her too-small frame, her short-cropped hair mussed as it always was anymore. She said nothing for a long moment, just sitting beside him, before she finally spoke up. "My father said you had a job tonight?"

Montparnasse frowned down at her, arching a brow. "Don't see why it matters. You hate the sight of me anymore. Don't see why you should care if I have to go to someone else."

She glared up at him with fire in her eyes, her dangerous temper flaring. "Shut up. Just because I don't want to sleep with you anymore doesn't mean I like the fact you're getting paid to do it with someone else. Especially when you don't want to."

He glared back at her, his own eyes equally alight. "Well that's how I'm staying alive, love. So unless you have a better option, I suggest you leave me alone about how I bring your dad money."

"He gets enough money on the raids!" Eponine threw her hands angrily into the air, and the sun hit her ebony skin just right and Montparnasse felt a tug in his gut at knowing she didn't love him any more. Never did, really. "He doesn't need you to be going around-"

"Well he thinks he does, so forget it," Montparnasse got to his feet angrily and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on and shoving his feet into his boots. "I'm going to go ahead and head out early. I'll see you later."

"Parnasse-"

"Bye, Eponine."

And with that he closed the door behind him, leaving a very angry and even more concerned Eponine sitting on the bed, who in turn just spun around and watched the clock, waiting for him to come home.

* * *

And there's Parnasse! I'm so excited, he's going to play a pretty big role in this story! I got the idea for his second job from Finnick in _The Hunger Games_... It broke my heart, and yet made so much sense.

Please, please do let me know what you think, check out the Tumblr page, and have a lovely day!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


End file.
